Lord_Damocles

The Old Gods are gone. Lost and Forgotten, their honor shattered and their kingdoms broken by treachery. 

The Peace of the Myriad Heavens has been severed. And from the ashes of war and chaos, the Twin Towers of Babel have been created as a beacon of hope. 

Can Altair, a child born of the Old Gods whose name has long since been forgotten, survive, or will he be cast into the Nine Hells?

***
"So..." Arsene continued, enjoying his child's flush expression. "I've got a few things to teach you. What I'm about to give you is some peak wisdom. Think of it as my Ten Commandments: One, never trust a bitch with red hair. Trust me on this. Two, the pull-out game is not a real thing. She will get pregnant. Three—"

"F-Father…"

" —Never get yourself more than one wife. It sounds fun. It is fun. But it's truly a nightmare. You better be writing this stuff down. This is some grade-A wisdom right here. Four.

"...Please stop talking…" The Prince pleaded. 

"Shhhhh. Just let this happen. Four…Bro's before hoes isn't a thing. The hoes come first. Remember, Booty is more important than Wa— "

"STOP!!!!!"

Shadow of the Abyss

As Syris stood before the full-length body mirror, she observed a silly grin on her face. Her reflection seemed almost unrecognizable to her. Her knees had nearly given way, buckling like a newborn fawn. The early morning exercise still lingered in her mind, leaving her eyes glossy and unfocused. She felt lost in the fog of the memories that flooded her thoughts, eroding her awareness, leaving only the seething ache of throbbing loins.

He appeared like a looming shadow, cupping her ass and giving her a nice squeeze. "I fucking love how thick you are," he said, recalling how she had him shooting blanks just a few hours ago. "How do you feel?"

Syris, with pleading eyes, looked up at Altair through the mirror. "I don't have the physical strength. No more," she said, betrayed by her naughty palm cradling his manhood beneath his trousers.

The Saintess of the Vale I